


Ready to Run

by Stahlop



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Movie Marathon Event (Once Upon a Time), F/M, Past Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Past Pinocchio| August Booth/Emma Swan, Past Wizard of Oz|Walsh/Emma, Runaway Bride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stahlop/pseuds/Stahlop
Summary: When nationally known vlogger, Killian Jones, makes a scathing video about Runaway Bride, Emma Swan, who subsequently gets him fired, he vows to find out everything he can about her to prove that his video about her was right. After all, she's left three men at the altar and is getting ready to get married again. But on his journey to prove what a terrible person she is, he ends up finding out that Emma is not the villain he thought she was, and he may be falling for her as well.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Huntsman | Sheriff Graham/Emma Swan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28
Collections: Captain Swan Movie Marathon





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my entry for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon. This is my take on the Julia Roberts/Richard Gere romcom, Runaway Bride. I thought Emma with her walls, would be perfect in the Julia Roberts role. And Killian will be borrowing from his season 2 Hook for his attitude towards Emma.
> 
> Warning: Emma's character is currently engaged to Graham through most of this fic and there will be some references and scenes with her past grooms, so if you don't like reading about past relationships, don't read any further.
> 
> Thanks so much to the Captain Swan Movie Marathon for putting this together. I've been wanting to write this for at least a year, and this finally kicked my butt in gear to get it started.
> 
> And thanks to my beta Imlaxdris71!

_ Oh god, oh god, oh god!  _

_ This wasn’t happening! _

_ THIS WASN’T HAPPENING! _

“Breathe honey, breathe.” A voice from behind her says. Her vision has gone black and everything sounds far away. She starts feeling dizzy. Oh god, she can’t faint in front of everyone on top of everything else.

“Good thing I always carry spare paper bags in my purse.” The voice, sounding vaguely like her mother’s, says. She hears the crinkling of paper and then a brown paper bag is shoved in front of her face. “Here sweetie, blow into this.” Emma finally recognizes the sweet sounds of her mother’s voice coming from behind her. She blows into the paper bag and the dizziness starts to subside and her vision starts to come back. Unfortunately, the reason for her major breakdown is still in her line of vision. Neal Cassidy, love of her life, soon to be husband, groom to her bride as they are standing in front of a crowd of people on the back porch of her parent’s farmhouse, has just been arrested by the police before the nuptials could even begin!

She had been admiring her dress in the antique full-length mirror. It had been her mother’s dress—a white sleeveless ball gown with a feathered skirt. She had no idea how her mother had managed to keep it the same snow white that it had been on her wedding day, or how she’d managed to not lose a single feather from it. Of course, it was a little more snug on her than it had been on her mother as Mary Margaret had not been four months pregnant when she’d gotten married. Leave it to Emma to end up with a shotgun wedding. But she really did love Neal, regardless of the pregnancy. It was as her mother was finishing curling her hair that they heard the commotion outside and the unmistakable sound of the town sheriff reading rights to someone. Emma had swung open the door, only to see Neal being led away in handcuffs screaming that he was innocent and that this was all a big mistake. 

And now she was here, breathing into a paper bag in front of practically the whole town.

In the days that follow, the whole story finally comes out. Neal Cassidy, whom Emma’s parents already dislike due to the fact that he is twenty-three and she is barely eighteen, stole some watches from a jewelry store in Boston, a good four hours from their little town of Storybrooke, Maine over a year ago. He had been caught on camera and the FBI had come looking for him. The goddamn FBI had come and arrested her fiancé ! 

The FBI came back a day or two later to question Emma about the whole thing. Luckily, she’d met Neal after the heist so nothing could be pinned on her. But they did take away the delicate diamond studded watch Neal had given her as her wedding present, as it was apparently one of the stolen watches. Emma wonders what else Neal gave her that was stolen.

After the debacle of her non-wedding, life goes on as normal in her town. But because Storybrooke is so small, everyone comments to her about what happened at the wedding. No one tiptoes around it whatsoever. So Emma just goes with it. She laughs when Ashley, her photographer, makes a joke about never wanting to see pictures of Neal again when giving her back her deposit. She smiles when Aurora, from Beauty Bakery, tells her to keep the cake since chocolate is always good for stress eating, and she’s sure Emma will be doing a lot of that in the coming days. When her best friend Elsa claims to have thought Neal was a jerk from the beginning and she never thought he’d do right by her, Emma comes out with her own half-truths just to make Neal look worse in her own eyes, even though she’d been blindly in love with him right up until his arrest.

When Henry is born five months later, looking so much like Neal with his big brown eyes and thatch of brown hair, Emma decides that this is all that she needs. She only needs the love of her family, and she’ll be damned if she’s lulled into marriage again by another smooth talking huckster. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm thrilled with all the response to my short little prologue for this piece. Now let's meet Killian. If you've seen the movie this is based off of then you'll recognize Killian's monologue, and get a little insight into where Killian's mindset is on the opposite sex.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, imlaxdris71 for her help on this!

Killian Jones is known for his silver tongue (well, he is also known for what he can do with his tongue, but that’s not the point). Killian Jones is one of the most eloquent and articulate (though he can be a bit loquacious) men in Boston, and that is why he was plucked from being the number one editorial writer for the Boston Globe to become the number one vlogger for the nationally known ‘Making the Rounds’. His segment,  _ Full Mast _ , where he gets to flaunt his opinion about anything and everything, has made him well known around the US. He also has the worst writer’s block at the moment and needs an idea pronto.

“Sports?” His brother, Liam, suggests from across the bar. His bar. The Jolly Roger, in which Killian is a silent partner.

“I have no opinions on sports except that American football is ridiculous.” Killian says taking a sip of his beer even if it is only one in the afternoon. Hey, it’s gotta be five o’clock somewhere. “Besides, you know my viewers don’t care about those types of opinions.” While he does have a largely male viewership, his views on sports is not what they care about at all.

“Women’s sports?” Liam counters while mixing what looks to be a martini for the disheveled looking man on the other side of the bar.

“Do you even watch my vlog?” Killian asks, offended. But before Liam can give back a smart remark Killian is drenched in some sort of alcohol and he sees a blurry blonde standing in front of him.

“Hello, Tink.” He sighs, grabbing some napkins from the counter and tries to pat dry the drink (some sort of coconut rum concoction from the smell of it) she’s just thrown on him. Liam tries (but fails) to not laugh at what has just occurred.

“You blogged about our blind date?” She screeches at him, her face turning purple.

“I didn’t use your name.” Killian replies, exasperated, which only seems to fuel the fire of rage going through the woman in front of him.

“I thought we had a good time. I thought we enjoyed each other’s company. You even said you would call me. Instead,” she puts a finger out to warn him not to interrupt her diatribe, “you make a video blog about the pressure of blind dates and that you would say anything to said blind date to get it over with as quickly as possible, including, and let me see if I remember this right, ‘wooing her into your boudoir so she’ll elucidate to her friends that the date was a success’, when in all actuality, you’re letting her down easy by telling her things are actually moving too fast for you, and then your friends won’t set you up again for awhile since the last one didn’t work out so well. Did I get that right?” Tink puts her arms over her chest waiting for his response, her face pinched so tightly Killian thinks the vein in her forehead might actually pop.

“I mean, you knew exactly who I was when we were set up. Romance is not something I believe in.” Killian is about to give his patented smolder to her, which usually placates most women when they are yelling at him, but Tink slaps him across the face instead, turns around and walks off in a huff. The bar is silent for a moment (not that it was bustling with activity beforehand), until Liam starts laughing hysterically. 

Killian can feel the blush creeping across his face and up his ears. He doesn’t get embarrassed easily anymore, but his brother can always bring it out in him, reducing him back to the eager-to-please, brown-nosing lieutenant he was once upon a time when he and Liam had been in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. He’s learned a lot since then. One affair and almost marriage later, he’s sworn off anything more than a one night stand and isn’t afraid to talk about his feelings on the opposite sex in his video blog.

“More napkins, please, Liam?” The cocktail napkins are doing nothing to actually sop up the drink from his clothes. “And a glass of water.” He sighs as he realizes the part of the drink drying on his skin is now getting sticky and will be a bitch to get out of the chest hair he always has on display.

“I’ve seen worse,” says a voice from the other end of the bar. Killian barely looks up at where it came from, too busy cleaning himself up and wondering if he can use this in his next piece.

“I said, I’ve seen worse,” the voice says again. It’s the disheveled looking man that Liam had made the martini for earlier, and Killian has no idea why this man has decided to talk to him, so he just smiles at him and goes back to the task of getting the wetness out of his shirt. The man stands up, wobbling a little (and Killian almost laughs at the fact that the man is drunk after one martini), and heads over towards his part of the bar. He is wearing a suit and tie that is tied so tight it makes his head look much larger than it probably is. That and his large ears give the impression of a monkey in a suit. 

The man stumbles over to the dartboard continuing on. “I’ve witnessed much more brutal break-ups than that.” He picks up the darts left by a previous patron and attempts to hit the dartboard with them, but ends up getting them in the wall instead. Killian shakes his head at the display. “At least she dumped you in private,” the man says looking around at the five other people sitting in the bar in the afternoon.

“Not private enough.” Killian sighs again. Sometimes, being a well known vlogger can be tiresome. He almost misses when he could write articles with anonymity, but print, as his boss keeps telling him, is on the way out. They need to keep up with the times, which is how he’s found himself in this position.  _ Bloody Hell!  _ Killian realizes that the man is still babbling about women while throwing even more darts into the wall and it’s getting rather irritating.

“Look,” Killian says, turning toward the man who now seems delighted that he has managed to get Killian’s attention, “as fun as it is to lambaste women with you, I really need to work on figuring out what to put in my next vlog.” He gives a tight smile and turns back toward Liam. The man now sits down right next to him making Killian very uncomfortable. 

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I have a great idea.” Killian gets up and moves away from the man further down the bar. If he had a dollar for every time a ‘fan’ had a great idea for him, he probably wouldn’t need to ever work again.

“There’s a girl from my hometown that you could write about.” The man spits out quickly.

“He’ll be fine.” Liam butts in, saving Killian from making a scene with this man. “My little brother has always come up with something, even if it’s at the last minute.”

“Younger brother.” Killian grumbles irritably. “I’m just as tall as you are.”

“She likes to dump grooms right at the altar,” the man says knowing he’s losing Killian’s attention. “She’s done it several times now. Leads these men on for months, gets them to spend money on her, promises them everything, then when she gets down the aisle, she runs like hell. And she’s about to do it again. She’s engaged and supposed to get married in two weeks!” That gets Killian’s attention, the fact that she’s done it more than once and she’s planning on doing it again.

Killian spends the next hour plying the man with drinks and getting as much information out of him as he can before holing up in his apartment to write the greatest monologue he’s ever written in his life.

The next day he goes down to the studio where he records his vlog. He likes to do it standing in front of the green screen and let his video editor, his best friend Will, put him in front of whatever background he likes. He doesn’t really care about all the technical details, he just likes the nation to hear what he has to say, and boy, will this vlog be a doozy.

“Today is a day of profound introspection.” He says, his British accent sounding even more pronounced with his use of what his boss, Belle, calls twenty-five cent words. He doesn’t care, it’s what makes him the star of ‘Making the Rounds’. It’s why he has his own segment. It’s why he has a large following.

“I have been accused of using this vlog to direct bitter diatribes at the opposite sex. This uncomfortable accusation…” He pauses to smirk at the camera, “has plunged me into at least... a few minutes of serious reflection, from which I have emerged with the conclusion that, yes, I traffic in female stereotypes.” He starts pacing for the next section, every bit of that freshman year drama class he was forced to take in college helping him out.

"But how can one blame me when every time I step out my front door I meet fresh proof that the female archetypes are alive and well. The mother, the virgin, the whore, the crone." He spits the words out as if they are personally offensive to him. As if he’s been harmed by each and every type of these women.

"They're elbowing you in the subway, stealing your cabs, and overwhelming you with perfume in elevators. But perhaps in fairness to the fairer sex, I do need to broaden my horizon and add some new goddesses to the pantheon." He quirks an eyebrow, something that demographics have deemed will get him forgiveness from his female viewers, even when he’s spewing this type of vitriol at them. It’s not that he hates women, it’s just that… he’s been done wrong by them too many times, and this ‘runaway bride’ has really brought out his ire for them. 

"I would like to nominate for deity the cheerleader, the coed...and the man-eater, the last of which concerns me most today. In ancient Greece, this fearsome female was known as Erinys,

the devouring death goddess. In India, she is Kali who likes to devour her boyfriend Shiva's entrails. In Indonesia, the bloody-jawed man-eater is called Ragma." And now, now is the time for the pièce de résistance! Killian feels like he is a god among men, calling out all the women who treat men in the world like they are playthings that can just be thrown to the side when they are done with them.

"And in Storybrooke, Maine, where she is an elementary school art teacher, she is known as Miss Emma Swan, a.k.a. the Runaway Bride. What is unusual about Miss Swan, is that she likes to dress her men up as grooms before she devours them. At some point during the time she dates them, gets engaged to them, and traps them at the altar where they have nowhere to run, she decides that she will not partake in this bizarre mating ritual we have forced upon ourselves that we call marriage. No, she has left seven grooms at the altar, bypassing them after she has walked down the aisle and searching for the next one she can get her claws into. Is it any wonder that we men are hesitant to do anything other than bed a woman? Why wine and dine and get to know them when women like Emma Swan are so callous of our feelings? So I say to you, Miss Runaway Bride, I hear you are attempting another wedding. Just let the poor bloke down easy before all the pomp and circumstance instead of feeding him to the wolves like you have with all the others. Have some compassion for once. And for any other women out there who have the gall to think being a man-eater is the only way to be, please realize that men are not accessories that can be thrown away when they don’t match your outfit. Treat us with respect and we will treat you in the same way. And if you really want to be a man-eater,” Killian strikes his final pose, the camera zooming in on his face as he gives the sexiest smoulder he can muster, “please wait until we’re alone in the bedroom. I’m Killian Jones, and this is  _ Full Mast _ !”

This was his masterpiece! He can just imagine the accolades, the vlogging awards, maybe even a move to network television!

“You’re fired.”

Except for that little blip on the radar.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been 84 years since I posted a new chapter. I am so sorry. Between birthdays, Secret Santa, January Joy, and Neverland New Year, I kind of over extended myself. I'm hoping to update this every two to three weeks now.
> 
> Thanks to Imlaxdrix71 for continuing to be my beta for this story.

“Belle.” He says to his boss and the head of the vlog site. “Come on. It’s an opinion piece. You can’t fire me for having an opinion.” 

“I left you four messages and a slew of texts, Killian.” Belle sighs as she pushes a piece of mousy brown hair that has escaped her barrette away from her face as she looks for something on her laptop.

“And that surprises you? I never answered your messages and texts when we dated either.” He looks over at Will who happens to be in the office as well, which is odd because Will doesn’t usually come to meetings between them. Will is usually never out of the editing room when they’re at the office.

“What’s your boyfriend doing here?” Killian asks grumpily. He’s perfectly fine with Belle dating his best friend. He gave Will his blessing when he asked Killian if he could date Belle after they’d broken up. There were no hard feelings between him and Belle; they just worked better as friends.

“Moral support.” Belle says, her eyes lighting up as she has apparently found what she is looking for.

“Since when do you need moral support, Belle?” Killian teases. Belle does not look amused.

“I’m here for you, you wanker!” Will says practically knocking Killian out of his chair.

“Aha!” She says as she pulls up whatever it was she was looking for. “First rule of journalism, Killian, regardless of whether it’s an opinion piece or not, if you make up your facts, you get fired.” She gives him a stern look, one he got very used to when they were dating. It was a wonder she’d never killed him.

“Second rule: never work for an ex.” He sighs. Belle’s face gets even more stern. Killian has never even seen this face before, and he thought he knew them all. She sighs again and clicks a button on her computer. Killian hears the printer spitting out a piece of paper behind her.

“That has nothing to do with it, Killian.” She says as she rolls her chair around to the printer and grabs what it was she printed out. “If you make something up you get fired.” She looks completely exasperated with him, another look he knows all too well. Killian sighs this time.

“I didn’t make up anything, I had a source.” Belle knows him too well to think he would just make something up, so he’s really confused as to where this whole tongue-lashing is coming from.

“Someone reliable?” She questions raising her eyebrow at him. “Or someone in Liam’s bar?” Oh, he knows her way too well.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don't knock drunk guys in bars. It means they're not driving.” Will laughs at his joke. Killian puts out one arm toward Will and then looks back at Belle as if to say ‘See?’, but she’s still not amused by him. “Besides, l am an opinion vlogger. This is what opinion vloggers are supposed to do.” Killian is slightly agitated that Belle is making him defend himself over this. Usually, he just gets a talking to and that’s that. “It's what you like. We push, we stretch, we go out on a limb. That's what makes me good!”

“No, it’s what makes you fired.” Belle fires back. Killian’s had enough of this.

“What the hell, Belle?” Will laughs again from behind him. So much for support.

“Emma Swan has written a grievance against you and asked you to be fired or she will sue us for slander.” Belle says with finality. Killian’s eyes go wide with shock. Maybe he shouldn’t be getting his ideas from drunk guys in bars. And now that he thinks about it, he really shouldn’t have used her name. Will comes up behind him and rests his hands on Killian’s shoulders in a comforting way. 

“Please Belle, this is my life we’re talking about.” He says, no longer feeling cocky about all this. The wind has been blown out of his sails, so to speak.

“If you go quietly, I’ll see about getting you severance pay.” She says not looking at him in the eyes and handing him the paper she had printed out. He opens it to see the email that Emma Swan had sent about him and he realizes this is real. Just yesterday he was envisioning winning awards for this piece and now he doesn’t have a job.

“Come on mate.” Will says helping him out of the chair and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your desk so you can collect your things and escort you out.” They begin to walk out of Belle’s office.

“I can do it myself.” He says rather angrily. He instantly regrets it. It’s not Will’s fault he’s in this mess. 

“Well, actually, I do. I have to physically make sure you leave the building.” Will says a little embarrassed. 

“Of course.” Killian replies back. This was not how he foresaw his day going at all. Will has ceremoniously provided him with a small box to put everything in. He gathers up a picture of himself and Liam from when they were stationed together on the same ship, both looking pristine in their uniforms. He picks up the picture of Belle, Will, and himself, back when they were all just a bunch of single friends, before dating complications. A picture of himself graduating from college goes into the box, as well as other knickknacks he’s collected over the years. He leaves all the notebooks and writing utensils, he has enough of those at home.

Will stays silent through all this until the elevator doors close behind them.

“I have an idea that will get your job back.” Will says still facing the elevator door and not actually facing Killian. 

“What?” Killian says, confused. “What are you saying?”

“Revenge.” Will says now facing him with a slightly evil smile on his face. He and Will have been friends for a long time, and this is the first time Killian has ever seen this creepy smile grace his face. “How would you like some? A chance to prove that although your story wasn't entirely factual, your theory was correct.”

“The real story on Miss Swan.” Killian interrupts.

“All the gory details.” Will’s actually rubbing his hands together like a movie villain. Killian raises an eyebrow. This is a side of Will he’s never seen before. For all the trouble they got into as young men, he’s never been blatantly evil about it. But he would like to get his job back. “And if she runs again, even better.” Will shrugs as the elevator bell pings that they’ve reached the ground level and the doors open up to the lobby. 

Will waves goodbye before the elevator doors close back up on him and Killian is left to ponder what Will has said. “Bloody hell.” He whispers to himself and immediately shifts his box to one side and grabs his phone from his pocket. He scrolls to find a car rental place and places the call as he walks outside of his former employer’s building. 

“Yes, I’d like to rent a car for next month.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Henry had been born, Emma Swan had vowed to protect her heart and his heart from any further heartbreak. Having grown up in the foster system, it wasn’t that hard. She’d felt she hadn’t been loved from a very young age, and even though her parents had eventually gotten her back at the age of 10 (they’d been 16 when they had her and thought they’d been giving her her best chance by putting her up for adoption), she still had those trust issues. Neal did nothing to help those issues, and even after he’d gotten out of jail five years later, he was barely there for Henry, despite only living a few neighboring towns over. 

The problem though, was that Emma’s parents were the perfect fairy tale couple (despite the less than fairy tale teen pregnancy and adoption). They had met as children, the mayor’s stepdaughter and the farmer’s son. Her mother, Mary Margaret, and her father, David, had not hit it off at all. They fought like cats and dogs (David even had a scar on his chin from one such fight in which Mary Margaret threw a rock at him). It had eventually all come down to some school dance where they were forced to dance together as the dance’s king and queen, and they had never been apart since. They had married after college and established their careers, and when they had discovered they were pregnant with her little brother, Leo, they decided they wanted their whole family back together. Or at least, have contact with Emma if she’d found herself a loving home already. It took them a few years to find her, and it took Emma a few years to really trust them. After all, they had been the reason she’d been in foster care in the first place. And having a three-year-old brother practically right when she came to live with them sent those trust issues spiraling, as she’d been given up by the Swan family at the age of three when they’d conceived their own child. That was why she’d fallen for Neal so hard and fast. Her parents seemed like true love, and she’d wanted that too. But obviously it didn’t work out as well for her.

And sure, she’d tried finding another guy who could love both herself and Henry unconditionally, but something had always pulled at her gut right as she was walking down the aisle that made her run. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she didn’t want to regret marrying someone, even if she’d been pretty sure right until she walked down the aisle. 

And that’s why Graham was perfect. He knew her. He was under no pretensions about her past. He was currently the town sheriff, but before that he’d been one of the local deputies that helped the FBI take Neal down at her first wedding (the fact that she can think first wedding when she’s never actually been married is still something that wars in her mind). They’d been friends for a long time, he being only three years older than her. And it was after her aborted marriage to Walsh that he finally made his feelings known. Henry already loved him, thought of him as a father figure, and that’s all that mattered. And here they were, a year later, getting ready to get married. 

And she was going through with it this time.

“Graham! Graham!” She runs into the sheriff’s station high off the email she’s just received. “They canned him!” She says excitedly, shoving her phone in his face.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emma.” Graham says, dark blonde hair flopping in his face as he gives her a big ‘luckiest man in the world’ smile. “Try this on.” He hands her a large hiking backpack that he has at the station for some reason.

“Listen.” Emma says, absentmindedly putting her arms through the large pack’s straps as she reads.  "Dear Ms. Swan, I apologize to you for this unfortunate matter. Killian Jones’ vlog will no longer be appearing on our site. Best of luck in your upcoming marriage! Belle French.” She closes her phone and looks at Graham who is now beside her but still holding the pack up, which feels really heavy.

“That’s my girl!” He grins at her, then his face becomes serious. “Now this is the weight of the pack you’ll be wearing on the Inca Trail.” Graham has always wanted to go hiking on the Inca Trail and see Machu Picchu. It’s not really something Emma has ever thought about doing, but it makes Graham happy. It was definitely a better idea than Walsh’s honeymoon plans, which involved seeing different monkey species in their natural habitats all throughout the US. Or August who wanted to go to New York Fashion week and try to crash the runway shows. And then she’s suddenly falling backwards as Graham’s strong hands move away from the pack and the sheer weight of it pulls her down to the ground.

“Um, I think it’s a little heavy, hon. Can you help me up, please?” But instead of helping her up he kneels down and starts peppering her with kisses. She squeals in delight as they start making out on the sheriff’s office floor. Hopefully, no one will come in and interrupt them.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma is hanging out at Hairandelle, Elsa’s hair salon, while Henry is visiting with his Uncle Leo, when she sees the black Chevelle convertible drive through the center of town. It’s a weekend, so they do tend to get tourists, especially with the beautiful fall foliage that has started appearing on the trees. Elsa raises an eyebrow toward her. She knows how much Emma loves cars. She’d restored her yellow Beetle all by herself, the only other thing Neal had left her with besides Henry. And the Chevelle is beautiful. Emma is tempted to go outside and take a look, has actually opened the door when the driver (who she’d only been able to see from the back until now) gets out of the car, parked in front of the local B&B. He looks slightly familiar to Emma, and then he takes off his aviator sunglasses and Emma’s temper flares!

“I can’t believe him!” She yells as she slams the door behind her, the bell jangling all over the place. Elsa’s expression changes quickly from the knowing smile she’d been displaying previously to one of confusion.

“Can’t believe who?” Elsa asks.

“Killian fucking Jones!” She points out the window at the Chevelle. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen Elsa sprint from her seat so fast as she pushes past her to get a glimpse of the man in the flesh. They both stare at him over copies of fashion and hair magazines.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Emma asks, a little panicked. She can’t imagine it’s for anything good, not after getting him fired from his job.

“Maybe he’s here to apologize?” Elsa says. Emma looks at her as if she’s suddenly turned into a snowman. 

“Doubtful.” She looks back over at him from behind the magazine and he turns toward them at that exact moment. He looks the same as he did on that awful vlog that he spoke on. Dark hair that was styled to look like he just rolled out of bed. Scruff on his chin that made Emma think things she really shouldn’t. Graham had the same type of scruff, he probably just makes her think of him. He’s talking to Leroy, the town gossip, and the grumpiest man she’s ever met (who likes to spend a lot of time in her jail cells after a night of drinking). He points straight toward them and then, they make eye contact. She squeaks and moves her magazine back up over her face. “Oh, god! Did he just see me?” She can feel her entire face flushing.

Elsa laughs. “He doesn’t know what you look like, remember?” She says patting her shoulder. But Killian Jones is now heading straight for them, and Emma is pretty sure Leroy just pointed her out to him.

“Shit!” Emma says as he continues toward the hair salon, a swagger in his step. She quickly jumps into one of the large bubble hair dryer stations, stuffs her hair up into the cap, flicks the machine on, crosses her legs, and puts the magazine up in front of her face just as the bell on the door starts jangling again.

“Hello.” Killian Jones says looking at Elsa intently, probably trying to figure out if she is the woman whose life he tried to ruin. “I’m looking for Emma Swan. Leroy over at the B&B said she was over here.” Emma wonders if Elsa would pretend to be her so she can make her escape. Elsa just gives him her patented eyebrow raise before asking him, “Are you a reporter?” like she doesn’t already know the answer. Emma smiles behind the magazine. Elsa’s going to mess with him. He’ll never know what hit him.

Killian Jones, to his credit, looks a bit taken aback that Elsa just straight up asked him if he was a reporter.

“What?” He seems to be trying to play it off as confusion instead of shock at being called out.

“It’s just that it’s been the most recent experience in our town that anyone asking about Emma happens to be a reporter wanting to interview her.” Elsa goes back to her style station and starts picking up various pairs of scissors, inspecting each pair.

“Because of her upcoming wedding?” Killian Jones offers.

“Oh, no.” Elsa says, turning back toward him brandishing a particularly sharp pair of scissors. “Because she got that asshole vlogger fired.” Killian Jones gives a nervous smile. Emma suppresses a giggle from behind her magazine and pretends to continue to be engrossed in the correct hairstyles for your face shape.

“I am just such a reporter.” He says sticking out his hand to shake Elsa’s. “And who might you be?”

“Elsa Frost. Yes, I get the Frozen jokes all the time.” She says never wiping the smile off her face. “And you are?” 

“Looking for Emma.” Killian Jones says flashing a brilliant smile at Elsa.

“Of course. Emma -- Someone to see you.” Elsa yells directly at her. Killian turns to look at the only other person in the salon, herself, and Emma can’t bring herself to drop the magazine from her face quite yet. She should have known Elsa wouldn’t be subtle. It was not her style.

“Emma?” Killian asks, stopping right in front of her. Well, this couldn’t be more embarrassing.

Emma slowly puts the magazine down and gives Killian Jones her brightest smile, as if seeing that she isn’t affected by him will make him change his mind and leave. She remembers at the last moment that she has the bubble hair dryer over her head and manages to flip it up and not bump her head on it. She doesn’t need to completely mortify herself quite yet.

“I really don’t know how much more you can say, sir.” She will not give away the fact that she knows who he is. He thinks he’s playing it cool, but the fact that he’s a vlogger doesn’t hide who he is in the least. Which gives Emma an idea.

“Hey Elsa!” Emma yells out. Elsa comes back around toward them, her blonde braid swishing behind her. As planned, Killian looks at her as she comes around and Emma mimes cutting his hair behind him. Emma quickly puts her hands back to her sides when he looks back at her. “Do you think I should give this reporter the inside scoop on my wedding?” God she hopes he takes the bait. He looks back at Elsa expectantly.

“I think…” Elsa taps her fingers along her cheek, “no one interviews Emma in here without a haircut.” Her face is full of mirth, but her voice is serious as hell.

Killian’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ladies, just had one.” He then runs his fingers through his hair as if to prove his point.

“Well,” Emma has another idea that she thinks they’d be able to pull off. “what about a nice hot towel for your face? Get all that city dirt out of your pores?” She gives him a wide smile. “I promise I’ll answer your questions.” Killian looks at her questioningly, but then decides to take the win. He gives a smirk and sits down in the chair.

“So, when’s the big day?” He asks while Emma puts the cape over him. Elsa props him back in the chair so he’s in a lying position.

“A week from Saturday.” Emma says in an upbeat voice. She sounds like one of those peppy cheerleaders she always hated in high school. 

“Church wedding?” He asks with an amused look on his face.

“No. I’m not a church person.” Emma laughs at the notion. “We’re doing an outdoor ceremony in the woods at Graham’s cabin.”

“Sir.” Elsa interrupts. “I’m just going to put some lotion on your face, just to make it smoother. Your face will feel so nice once the hot towels are added.” She turns to grab what she needs and smothers a laugh that bursts out with a cough.

“Gum.” Emma explains. “She’s always choking on her gum.”

“So, Miss Swan. Are you nervous for your upcoming nuptials?” He asks, ignoring Elsa’s outburst altogether. 

“No, but I have been having these bizarre dreams…” And Emma makes up a whole slew of bizarre wedding dreams including all her past grooms walking her down the aisle and looking down to find herself in a red, leather wedding gown.

“What do you think all that means?” She asks him as Elsa removes the hot towel from his face and puts him back up into a seated position.

“I’m not really quite sure,” he begins and puts his hand to his chin as if he’s truly thinking about her dilemma, but stops short when he realizes his scruff is no longer there. His eyes grow wide as he jumps up from the chair and turns toward the mirror.

“Smooth as a baby’s bottom.” Elsa says giving Emma a high-five. Killian doesn’t respond but stalks out of the salon instead. Emma follows him. She’s not done messing with him yet.

“Mr. Jones,” she says as she opens the salon door and rests against it while still open. “I hope you realize what a mistake it was in coming here. I’m not some simpering little girl that you can tell lies about and bully to make yourself feel good. You can’t make me feel bad.” She tries to sound casual about it and leaves her arms resting at her sides, even though every instinct in her body makes her want to cross her arms over her chest. But this guy knows body language. She could tell from the way he carried himself in his vlog. Crossing her arms makes her look mad and angry and she can’t give him that.

“I’m not here to make you look bad, Miss. Swan.” He scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. “But apparently you want to make me look bad.” He says as he rubs his now bare chin. He looks like a totally different person without his scruff. Younger, more innocent. “What I’m here for is revenge.” Killian gets up close to her. Too close for comfort. She can smell the chemicals from the hair removal product they used to rid him of his beard. But she can also see his blue eyes and while Graham’s eyes are also blue, Killian Jones eyes are a blue all unto themselves. Emma can see why women find him attractive. “In my heart I feel I’m right about you and I’m going to prove it. You got me fired, Swan. That’s not something I take lightly. You chew men up and spit them out. You’re going to do to this poor wanker what you did to your other three grooms. Run.” His eyes are practically black now. Emma can tell he’s getting off on this ‘dressing down’ of her, but she keeps the smile pasted on her face because she can’t let him see that he’s getting to her, no matter how off his theory about her may be. “You are going to run again, and I’m not leaving here until you do.” Emma almost expects him to jab a finger into her chest, but instead, he backs off and gives her a grin as if he won that round.

“You know Mr. Jones, I’d love to stay and discuss my psyche or whatever it is you think is my motivation for being a multiple time runaway bride, but unlike you, I actually have a job, one I need to prepare for. Goodbye.” She turns and walks off, resisting the urge to look back at him. She won’t give him the satisfaction.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the prologue is very short, but I hope its enough to wet your appetite.


End file.
